


I Know I Am, But What Are You?

by sysrae



Series: Becoming Us [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Anal Sex, Angst, Biphobia, Bottoming from the Top, Christmas, Derek "Nursey" Nurse is Unchill, Dysfunctional Family, Eventual Fluff, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Getting Together, Hair-pulling, I JUST WANT TO MAKE THAT CLEAR, I'll see you there, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, RIP Nursey, Self Confidence Issues, William "Dex" Poindexter is sexually frustrated, bisexual dex, emotionally dismissive asshole Poindexters, in a sex way, like HELLA SEXUALLY FRUSTRATED, not a death way, original Poindexter siblings, pansexual nursey, the author is going to hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 01:57:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 19,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8825710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sysrae/pseuds/sysrae
Summary: “I need you,” says Dex, “to be my fake date at my family Christmas. Please.”“Cool,” says Nursey, mouth operating on Chill Autopilot while his higher brain functions come to a screeching halt. “I can do that.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gayblackgeek](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayblackgeek/gifts).



> This fic is a Christmas present for a friend. YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE.

Nursey’s reading a classmate’s poetry blog on his phone when Dex stalks into the Haus. He glances around, takes in the unusual quietude – their other teammates are all elsewhere – and promptly beelines for Nursey’s spot at the kitchen table, moving like a shark. 

“Derek,” says Dex, his gaze intent as he leans across into Nursey’s space.

“William,” says Nursey, looking up with what he hopes is a neutral expression instead of flustered arousal. Dex’s big, square hands are braced on the table, his plaid overshirt rolled to the elbows. Sunlight gilds the faint copper hair of his brawny forearms, muscles defined where they’re bracketing Nursey in. Nursey fights a betraying urge to clear his throat and smiles instead. “What can I do for you?”

“I need you,” says Dex, “to be my fake date at my family Christmas. Please.”

“Cool,” says Nursey, mouth operating on Chill Autopilot while his higher brain functions come to a screeching halt. “I can do that.”

Dex’s mouth falls open in the plush, distracting way that means he’s been screwing himself to do something difficult and doesn’t know how to deal with it going easily.

“I need to come out to my parents,” he says – challengingly, like he’s waiting for Nursey to chirp him for it. Nursey would be lying if he said that wasn’t a turn-on, which is why his common sense has veto powers over his dick. (Theoretically, anyway. In practice, it tends to work the other way around.) He raises a querying eyebrow, not quite trusting himself to speak, and exhales quiet relief as Dex launches into one of his patented Poindexter tirades.

“Like, _really_ come out to them. I’ve told them I’m bi a dozen times and they still don’t think it’s an actual fucking orientation, like it’s just –” he lifts one hand, gesturing angrily, “– just some fucking _concession_ I’ve made to fitting in at Samwell, saying I like dudes but leaving it so I can still date girls, and isn’t it so _convenient_ , Will, how you’ve never had a boyfriend? It’s almost like you’re not _really_ into men at all, and I swear to god, Nursey, I swear to _actual god,_ if I have to sit through _one more holiday dinner_ where Mom explains to Aunt Karen that I don’t need to get tested for HIV because I’m only _pretending_ to be gay while my cousins ask me for makeup tips, I’m going cram an _entire pumpkin pie_ up somebody’s asshole.”        

“I don’t blame you,” Nursey says, abruptly furious on Dex’s behalf. “Your aunt brought up fucking _HIV_? _Really_?”

“Really,” Dex says, grim and disgusted. “I mean, she tried to play it off as a joke when my sister called her on it, but I wasn’t fucking laughing.” He runs a hand through his hair, slanting a sharp glance at Nursey. “You get that this is going to be hellish, right?”

“I get that it’s you who’s asking,” says Nursey, and almost gulps at Dex’s answering flush. “I survived being a queer brown kid at Andover, Dex. I can survive your goddamn family for, what – two days? Three, tops?”

“I can’t –” Dex says suddenly. Stops, looking physically pained. “Fuck, I should’ve thought of that first –”

“What?”

A muscle works in Dex’s jaw. “I can’t guarantee you won’t have to deal with racism. If you still want to do this, I mean. And I’d understand if you didn’t. But.”

Once, Nursey would’ve tapped his salt reserves and chirped Dex for letting race be an afterthought, but the differences between frog year Dex and the man now looming over him are many and material enough that he doesn’t. He shuts his eyes for a moment, trying to convince himself that the raw infatuation he’s been harbouring since long before Dex came out to the team isn’t worth this sort of bullshit; that putting his mouth on Dex’s mouth is one thing, but agreeing to do so in a room full of potentially racist homophobes is another.

“I hate this,” Dex says, so softly that Nursey almost misses it. He opens his eyes and looks up to see Dex hugging himself, each thumb digging hard into the meat of the opposite shoulder. “They’re my _family_ , you know? I always thought they were good people, and I guess they mostly are, but I hate how fucking conditional it is; how I can’t trust them to just trust _me_ , or trust that they’ll treat you the same as if I brought home someone like Holster.”

Nursey’s mouth is dry. “Why are you asking me, then?”

“Because,” says Dex, and stops again. Lets his hands drop, amber gaze flicking up from under red-gold lashes. “Because I do trust _you_.” Which knocks the breath right of Nursey in a way it shouldn’t, so that it’s a mercy when Dex shifts gear in the next breath and says, “Besides, I know you’re okay with kissing guys, and even if you weren’t, you’re the only asshole on Earth who doesn’t already have Christmas plans.”

“Hey, I could have plans!”

Dex laughs. “Don’t even front, bro: we both know you’re gonna go home to a big empty brownstone, get stoned in your Daffy Duck boxers and cook mac n’ cheese while you yell at reruns of _Project Runway_.”

“Heaven is a place on Earth,” Nursey singsongs, ducking the playful swipe Dex aims at his head. “Oh, like you wouldn’t love it? Like you’re too good to do it with me?”

“Bite me, Nurse.”

“Ask nicely, Poindexter.”

They grin at each other, and Nursey feels something bright and wonderful yaw in him, like a swallowed orrery. His whole body is flush with it, and when he finally speaks again, he knows he’s letting _something_ veto his common sense, and it isn’t just his dick.

“I’ll be your date,” he says. “C’mon, like I’m going to pass up a chance to scandalise a bunch of uptight white people?”

“You’re such a mouthy lay,” Dex says, with what sounds suspiciously like fondness.

Nursey bats his lashes. “Aw, but you love it.”

Dex snorts. “Of course I do. I’ve put up with you for three years, haven’t I?” And then he goes and goddamn _smirks_ , and Nursey’s soul leaves his body. “Put up, put out _and_ put in, as far as my family is concerned.” He claps Nursey hard on the shoulder, just once. “You’re the best, bro.”

“I regret my life,” says Nursey, voice raising to follow Dex out of the room. “I regret my choices!”

Dex’s answering laughter echoes in the hall.

 _Oh god,_ Nursey thinks faintly. _I’m going to die._

 

*

 

The thing about Nursey’s crush on Dex is this:

Once upon a time, in the days when Dex was just some angry, uptight proto-Republican with a chip on his shoulder, Nursey took a not-so-quiet pleasure in riling him up. He’d always meant to be out at Samwell on his own terms, as opposed to the outing he’d had to grit his teeth and roll with at Andover, and what better way to contrast the one with the other than to fling his queerness casually in Dex’s face mid-heterosexist rant?

“C’mon, Dex,” he’d drawled, cutting off Dex’s conflation of straightness with clothing choices, “you’ve gotta know that’s bullshit. I could put on your ugliest, manliest flannel-and-denim combo and I’d still wanna suck the occasional dick – you really think wearing eyeliner is magically gonna make you wish it was yours?”

Dex had audibly choked, his freckled cheeks staining bright crimson as Ransom yelled, “Oh, snap!” and Shitty almost dropped his beer in his rush to high five Nursey. The conversation had switched from there, with Dex being notably quieter for a good half-hour, until Chowder got started on the awesomeness of the Sharks vs. every other team and started an all-in argument about the NHL.

Afterwards, though, when the satisfaction of rubbing Dex’s face in their teammates’ acceptance had worn down to an ambient buzz – afterwards, when Nursey had been sorting empties for recycling in the Haus kitchen – Dex had crabbed his way over and mumbled, “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah?” said Nursey, magnanimous in his possession of the moral highground. “That’s chill, bro.”

Dex’s eyes flashed with irritation. “No, I mean –”

“You’re _not_ sorry?”

“God, would you just _shut up_?” Dex snapped, his copper hair and amber eyes and pinkened cheeks and butterscotch freckles all set off by that red, full mouth, and in that moment, Nursey had an uncomfortable realisation: _Oh no, he’s hot_. “Like, I get that you went to the kind of school where people think taking shop class is as bad as doing meth, but it would really be helpful if you’d get your head out of your ass and realise that some of us have never been allowed to talk about all this shit before.”

Nursey, who was trying and failing to process this development, said, somewhat dumbly, “What?”

Dex exhaled, sharp and impatient. “The fuck else do you think I’m doing at Samwell, Nurse? You think I ended up at this school by accident? If I wanted to spend the rest of my life devolving into the kind of jerk who thinks groping his waitress is a compliment, I could’ve gone to a dozen other places where the dominant species is lax bro.”

“Fffffuuuuuuuck the lax bros,” Nursey said, and huffed a laugh at Dex’s answering grin.

“Right?”

“Right.”

“And I just.” Dex frowned again, his shoulders slumping (stupidly _fucking broad shoulders_ , how had Nursey not noticed that?) as he shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry, okay? I know what I sound like, I know I get ornery and dig in –”

“Ornery? Really? You?”

“– and I come off like an asshole, but I’m trying, okay?” He ran a hand through his hair, his calloused fingers snagging on the strands. “And, uh. I really am sorry, you know. If I made you uncomfortable. Or if –” he swallowed, looking away, “– if I made you feel like you had to out yourself just to make me shut up.”

William J. Poindexter is a 6’2 red setter puppy, and in that moment, Nursey wanted nothing more than to give him a loving home.

“It’s chill, Dex,” he said, more gently than before. “We’re d-men, right? We learn fast.”

“Yeah,” said Dex, and smiled in a way that Nursey wasn’t drunk enough to handle. “We are. We do. Thanks, bro.” And he held out his hand for a fistbump.

Eight months later, when Dex finally, nervously came out to the team, Nursey had to sneak off to the bathroom and sit quietly for a while, breathing deep and slow to settle a nascent panic he couldn’t name. He’d never stopped noticing Dex in more than platonic ways, had scrupulously tried to bro-flirt with him as much as he did their other teammates without crossing the line into Queer Dude Making His Straight Crush Uncomfortable territory, and had told himself over and over that any glimmer of reciprocal interest he thought he saw was his own imagination – but now Dex was out, and Nursey didn’t know what to do with that. Dex liking guys wasn’t the same as his wanting Nursey, and what if Nursey asked him out and Dex thought it meant he’d only ever wanted to get in his pants? Better to wait and let Dex make whatever move there was to be made; better not to risk a friendship that mattered more to him now than he knew how to put into words. _It’s chill,_ Nursey told himself. _Whatever he wants is fine._

But it’s also _not_ fine, because now they’re into their senior year and Nursey still wants Dex – wants him badly enough to agree to be his awful familial fake-date to a Christmas disaster party – except that it’s way too late to say so. He’s left it too long without making a move, and now he has to pretend-kiss Dex without letting on that it isn’t pretend at all.

“Fuck my life,” Nursey mumbles, and bangs his head on the table.

 


	2. Chapter 2

 “Would you ease up on the wheel?” says Nursey, shooting Dex a worried glance from the passenger seat. “Or maybe let Jesus take it, if you can’t find the goddamn brakes.”

Dex grits his teeth and asks himself, for the thousandth time since that day in kitchen, why the hell he thought this was a good idea. “I’m already driving at the speed limit.”

“You’re driving the fair weather limit _in snow_ ,” Nursey counters, which – okay. That’s a valid point. Dex exhales and forces himself to wipe off another ten mph, as though slowness in this case isn’t equivalent to masochism.

“There,” he says, glancing at Nursey, who _of course_ is wearing stupid fingerless hipster gloves in winter. Dex should chirp him for it, but there’s something stupidly hypnotic about Nursey’s habit of dragging his bare fingertips over his muscled thighs to warm them up, back and forth, back and forth, rucking gentle lines in that fitted, dark brown fabric Dex can’t even name, but which probably costs more than his truck –

“Watch the road!” Nursey yelps, and Dex jerks his gaze from Nursey’s legs just in time to make a sharp turn without crashing them into a snowbank.

“Sorry,” Dex mutters. His ears are burning under his beanie, and not just from embarrassment. Rather than risk another glance at the treacherous Thighs of Derek, he flicks the heater up a setting and concentrates on not killing them both. The snowfall is gentle but constant; he really can’t afford to get distracted again.

“Jesus,” Nursey mutters. “If I’d known you were going to be this tense, I’d have told you to rub one out before we left.”

“I don’t –” Dex starts, then flushes crimson, breathless at the slip. Fucking Christ, he’s gone his entire time at Samwell without so much as hinting at _that_ particular sexual quirk, so why the hell is he suddenly betraying himself in front of Derek Nurse? He tries to pretend it’s innocuous, that Nursey won’t pick up on it, but the radio in his piece of shit truck is busted and unless he wants to subject himself to the contents of Nursey’s iPod for the next four hours, there’s nothing to do but talk. Of _course_ Nursey fucking notices.

“You don’t what?” says Nursey, when it becomes clear that Dex isn’t going to finish the sentence. And then, incredulous: “Don’t _masturbate_? Come on.”

Clearly, Dex is an even bigger masochist than he realised, because there’s no good goddamn reason to answer honestly, and yet that’s exactly what he does.

“I don’t, actually,” he says. And then, before Nursey can respond to that, “Can’t, I mean. Anymore. I just. It doesn’t work – shit, not like that, I didn’t mean it like _that_ – ” 

“By _it_ ,” says Nursey, casual, “do you mean your dick?”

“My dick works _just fine_!”

A considering pause. “Are you demi, then?”

“Am I –?”

“Demi, you know. Demisexual. Or ace? You know it’s chill if you’re ace, bro.”

“I’m not demi,” Dex says, hating this conversation with every bitter fibre of his being. “Or ace. I just.” He grips the steering wheel, wishing they weren’t on a straight stretch of road so he had the excuse for a hard, vicious turn. “Are we seriously having this conversation?”

“I dunno,” says Nursey, maddeningly chill. “Are we?”

“ _Fine_ ,” Dex hisses, because having dug the damn hole, he might as well fling himself into it. “You really want to know? When I still lived at home, there was never any privacy. No locks on the bedroom or bathroom doors, shared rooms, and you know I’ve got four siblings. And I don’t know why it was okay when I was only jerking it to girls, but once – once I started to think about guys, I got just. I don’t know. I got really fucking paranoid that someone would be able to _tell_ , just by walking in on me. And I knew it was ridiculous, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it, so I figured, okay, just get some gay porn and do the thing and nothing will happen, and then I’ll know I’m good to go in the future, right?”

He shoots a glance at Nursey, who looks morbidly fascinated but, strangely, not judgemental, lips parted in a way that makes Dex want to swipe his thumb across them. He’s never told a soul about any of this, but the words are pouring out of him now and he can’t seem to make himself stop.

“And I was like, agonizing over this for _weeks_ , trying to work up the courage. Finally got my hands on the lamest softcore mag ever, picked a time when everyone else was meant to be out of the house and settled in, but of course my brother Nick left his goddamn jersey in the hamper on the way to practice, so he came back upstairs and there I am –”

“He caught you at it?”

“Mid wank,” Dex says, as mortified six years later as he was at the time. “Yeah.”

Nursey bursts out laughing.

It ought to feel like he’s being mocked, but Nursey’s eyes are green and warm and somehow Dex knows, in the pit of his tense and angry soul, that he’s being laughed _with_ , and that makes him brave enough not to yell; to keep on talking like his most embarrassing secret is a thing he discusses all the time.

“Shut up, Nurse. It was fucking traumatising, okay?”

“Must’ve been, if you still can’t jerk it.”

Dex makes an irritated noise. “He didn’t even see the porn, that’s the stupid part. Just laughed and told me to put a sock on the door next time, and to figure out how to work the washing machine so my sheets didn’t get crusty. But somehow dad found out, and he gave me The Talk –” an experience that _to this day_ still features in Dex’s nightmares, “– and then all my siblings somehow knew, and the fuckers made a game of it, of trying to catch me out again or joking about what I got up to when they weren’t in the room. And I know it’s stupid, I know they just wanted to rile me up, but after that I could never relax enough to get off on my own, even if I _was_ thinking about girls. Everything works fine if I’m with a partner, it’s not like I can’t get it up or anything, but on my own, I just… don’t.”

“Wait,” says Nursey. “Wait, hang on. How old were you when this happened?”

“Fifteen.”

“Holy shit.” Nursey stares at him, his pupils wide and dark. “Holy _shit_ , Poindexter. Are you – are you honestly telling me that the only time you _ever come_ is when you’re getting laid?”

Dex is going to invent a fucking time machine for the sole purpose of going back and preventing this conversation. He does not look at Derek Nurse, and absolutely does not mention that sex dreams are an exception to this otherwise unbent rule. “Yes,” he says, through gritted teeth.

Nursey makes a wounded noise. “Oh my _god_.”

“Nursey, if you fucking laugh –”

“This explains,” says Nursey faintly, “ _so much_ about you, William, oh my _actual god_. You haven’t – Jesus fucking Christ, you haven’t even _been_ on a date since _Halloween_ , and it’s basically _Christmas_ –”

“ _I am acutely fucking aware of that, thank you Derek –_ ”

“– you haven’t come in _fifty-three days._ At _minimum_.” Nursey’s expression is glazed. He stares at Dex like he’s never actually seen him before. “Dex. William. That’s –” he swallows, throat clicking audibly, then mouths something that Dex, who’s still driving the goddamn truck, doesn’t catch. “As your fake boyfriend, I’m _appalled_ at myself. I need to up my game.”

Dex is so obscurely relieved, he lets out a bark of laughter. “You have game, Nurse? That’s news to me.”

 “Bitch, I have so much game that my body’s a fucking _stadium_.”

“Does that mean your ass is the trophy room?” Dex quips. “Accessible only to those who finish first?”

“Or second,” Nursey shoots back, slyly. “Or, on one memorable occasion, third.”

Dex, who’s trying very hard not to picture this arrangement, feigns lightness and says, “There’s one advantage to only coming with someone else, at least.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“Multiple orgasms.”

“William,” says Nursey, in a strangled sort of voice. “You cannot just _say_ that shit to me. I’m a delicate hothouse poet.”

“Noted,” says Dex, and fixedly keeps his eyes on the goddamn road.

 

*

 

The thing about Dex’s crush on Nursey is this:

He knew he was bi before he came to Samwell, but he didn’t know how to be out, or if he was even bi enough to merit _being_ out. And Nursey, right from minute one, was like the human equivalent of sand stuck under his fingernails: trying to get rid of him only made him burrow in deeper, and maybe Dex knew that he found boys hot in general, but he didn’t know what it felt like to want a specific _annoying_ boy, let alone one he knew in person. And at the time, he had no idea how to ask if someone was gay or bi or whatever in the first place, how you were meant to know it was safe to hit on them without them hitting _you_ , because there was only so much you could glean from the internet growing up when your siblings had access to your bookmarks and browser history on a single shared computer and weren’t shy about snatching the mouse away if they thought it’d get a reaction.

And so he’d tried, frog year, he’d _tried_ to explain how he thought it worked on the basis of the few non-pejorative things he’d ever heard anyone say about being queer, trying to puzzle it out as subtly as he could – and then Nursey had come out in the middle of his third attempt, and Dex, who could recite the chemical structure of the ionosphere in his sleep, abruptly forgot what air was.

After that, he’d stuck closer to Nursey, made a conscious effort to be less of a quick-tempered, tightly-wound pain in the ass. He could’ve gone to Bitty for advice but couldn’t quite work up the nerve for it, partly because it was still so visibly new for Bitty – who wasn’t out to his family either – that he felt like they’d only amp up their respective insecurities if he tried, but mostly because Nursey made – makes – it all seem easier, somehow.

Like, okay: Dex will cover Ransom’s rattiest snapback in hot sauce and eat the damn thing whole if Derek Nurse is really as chill as he claims to be even 50% of the time, but given that Dex can’t manage even the outward _semblance_ of chill, Nursey still comes off like a chill magician, a wizard of no fucks given, and newly-out Dex wanted _in_ on that. He’s the second-youngest of five kids – Alex, Nick and Sarah his elders by six, three and two years respectively, Caitlin his younger by one – and it’s not like he doesn’t love them all, but god, it’s so epically fucking unfair that every calm, unflappable gene in the Poindexter (née Macintyre) lineage has apparently skipped him in favour of even distribution among his sibs.

Every family gathering, it’s the same damn thing: Nick and Alex bonded by virtue of seniority, Sarah and Caitlin bonded by virtue of gender, and all four of them bonded together by virtue of a shared ability to handle teasing without either snapping or turning as red as their hair, which leaves Dex out in the cold. And Nursey, oh god – Dex is dragging Nursey right to the place where he’s weakest, he’s going to get chirped for everything until the end of time, forever, and all because Dex was too chickenshit to have asked Nursey out when he first told the team he was bi. It was just… he’d thought that maybe Nursey might be into him, too; that Nursey and his actual functioning gaydar, which might as well be a superpower given Dex’s total lack of it, had realised the truth and was only waiting for Dex to come out to act on it.

Telling the team as a group had been easy; knowing that Nursey was part of the team had left him drymouthed and shaky with nerves. Derek Nurse, with his easy smile and his perfect hair and his beautiful goddamn _everything_ ; Derek Nurse, who was so stratospherically out of Dex’s league that even pulling him aside after the big announcement felt roughly akin to cornering Tyler Seguin at a party.

“So,” Dex had said, gaze skating over Nursey’s mouth, the hollow of his throat. “So, uh. Are we, um. Are you cool with this, Nurse?”

Nursey had frowned at him, a slight adorable furrow etched between his perfect brows. “What do you mean?”

“You know,” said Dex, trying to sound casual and failing dismally. “With me being bi, or whatever.”

“Bro,” said Nursey, looking almost hurt. “You really think I’m gonna lay that biphobia crap on you? Just because I’m pan doesn’t mean I’m gonna give you shit for identifying a different way –”

“No, no, I didn’t – I know you wouldn’t, you’re not – I just meant –” Dex forced himself to gulp a breath, “– I just meant, like, it’s not going to be awkward now, between us?”

Nursey just blinked at him. “Why would it be awkward?”

Dex, who couldn’t think of an answer that wasn’t some variant of _because_ _I’ve never blown a guy but I want to blow you_ , said nothing; just bit his lip and stared at the floor. Finally, after an agony of silence, Nursey spoke again.

“Oh,” he said. “Wait. Is this one of your holdover assumption things? Like, you grew up thinking straight men and women can’t be friends because sexual whatever, and even though you know that’s bullshit, you’re still kinda worried that – what? We can’t be queer bros if I know you’re bi?”

“Don’t fucking chirp me about this,” Dex said hotly, stomach twisting to realise that Nursey wasn’t into him like that after all. “Are we cool or not?”

Nursey’s face softened, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, Will,” he said, reaching out to straighten Dex’s collar. “We’re cool.”

“Well, good,” Dex said, and stomped off to drink as much tub juice as Shitty would allow. (Spoiler: it was _a lot_. He woke up on the Haus lawn wearing nothing but a pair of novelty sunglasses and a strategically placed traffic cone, and the only reason he didn’t get chirped more for it is because Chowder Periscoped a ten minute video of himself hugging a plush San Jose mascot and crying about how much he loves sharks, both on _and_ off the ice. It went Samwell-viral almost as soon as he posted it; Farmer literally pulled a muscle laughing.)

So, yeah. Asking Nursey to be his fake-date might be practical, but it’s also fucking stupid. Dex might as well be wearing a button that says, _Ever wondered how much it would suck to date me? Free samples now available!_ Which, fuck – not that Dex is super into psychology, but telling Nursey about the whole I-can’t-masturbate thing is definitely an act of subconscious self-sabotage. None of his exes ever knew, but he can vividly imagine what they would’ve thought of it.    

“You wanna put on some music?” Dex says desperately, nodding in the direction of Nursey’s iPod. The broken radio means he can’t put his own on the adapter, but Nursey (of course) has a set of portable speakers he takes everywhere, small and clever and able to attach to glass.

“Sure,” says Nursey, leaping at the change in topic. “Let’s do that.”

He puts on 21 Pilots, and for once, Dex doesn’t complain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, this fic might be a Christmas present but that doesn't mean I'm not gonna subject you all to my very favourite Sexually Frustrated William Poindexter headcanon. YOU'RE WELCOME.


	3. Chapter 3

Nursey is shook. To his goddamn core, he is _shook_.

He’d always figured Dex was uptight to the point of sexual frustration, but not like _this_ , Jesus. He thinks of all the roadies they’ve been on, all those nights after a win or a loss when sex or weed or partying wasn’t an option; times when the only logical stress relief was rubbing one out in the hotel shower and riding the endorphin high to sleep. He’s edged himself before, but only ever when he had a willing partner to experiment with; knows exactly how long he can go without an orgasm before he can’t think straight and how insanely good it feels to get that next release from another person. Nursey’s a tactile, sexual, sensual guy; his edging record is six days, which he knows is small beans compared to some people – compared to _Dex_ , _Jesus merciful Christ_ – but when Jak, his partner at the time, had finally let him come, he’d done it untouched, while being fucked, whiting out so completely that he hadn’t moved for fifteen minutes afterwards.

Nursey shivers at the memory, glancing over at Dex. It’s not like he’s never wondered what Dex would be like in bed, but this is putting a whole new spin on his fantasies. It is, as he’d stupidly mouthed to himself, _fucking hot_ , and oh god, he doesn’t know which prospect appeals to him more: the idea that Dex, like Nursey, turns needy and pliant and grasping after a dry spell, or if he keeps the same straight-up aggression he brings to the ice, just finds a groove and takes control and lord help whoever’s on the receiving end of it all –

“Derek? Hey, Nurse, you in there?”

Nursey does not actually meep, but only because the sound he makes is pitched beyond human hearing. He glances over, flushed and guilty, and realises Dex has been trying to get his attention.

“Yeah, bro?” he says. (He has never felt less like calling someone _bro_ in his _entire_ _life_.) “Sorry, I kinda spaced out there.”

Dex snorts. “Yeah, I noticed. You had that same dopey look you get when one of Lardo’s brownies starts to kick in.”

“Oh, fuck you,” says Nursey mildly. “What’s up?”

“I just, uh. We never really discussed how we’re going to play this whole –” he lifts a hand from the wheel and gestures between them, “– relationdateship thing.”

Nursey opens his mouth. Closes it again. Squints at Dex, very carefully. “Are you quoting Daria at me, Poindexter?”

“I might be,” Dex grudges, with just a bare flicker of smile.

 _Marry me_ , Nursey thinks wildly. Out loud, he says, “Clearly, that’s a result of my boyfriendly influence.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Dex rolls his eyes. “Just, okay. I figured we should keep this shit simple. We started dating three months ago, but kept it on the DL because we’re d-men and didn’t want to make a fuss during the season if it didn’t work out. I didn’t tell my family because I wanted to be sure you’d still be around for Christmas, you didn’t tell yours because I didn’t tell mine, and now this is our big Couples Debut or whatever.”

“Why would your family care what our teammates think?”

Dex grimaces. “Remember when Sarah and Caitlin came out to see me last year?”

“I remember you telling me it happened,” says Nursey. “I went home that break, remember?”

“Oh, right.” Dex pulls a face at his own forgetfulness. “Well, anyway, they came, and you know how Bitty is, like, surgically attached to his Twitter account? Cait’s the same, and they ended up following each other. And I know Cait follows a billion other people on there, but she knows Bitty tweets about Samwell stuff, so if she bothers to look it up, she might wonder why he never talked about us getting together.”

Nursey blinks. “Is that, uh… is she likely to do that?”

“I give it a 70% chance, to be honest. 80% if she’s already got her phone out when we arrive.” Dex heaves an aggrieved sigh. “My fucking family Nurse – I love ‘em, but they drive me nuts.”

Carefully, Nursey says, “Which sister defended you to your aunt?”

“That was Cait,” says Dex. “She’s the youngest, but she doesn’t take shit from anyone.” He’s quiet for a moment. “After she met Bitty, I thought… I hoped she’d realise I was serious about being bi, that it was a real thing. But she still doesn’t think there’s anything other than gay or straight, and she knows I’ve been with girls before, so she thinks I’m straight. And she’s cool about Bitty, she doesn’t think it’s a sin or whatever, she just… augh!” He smacks his palm on the wheel, abruptly angry. “Why the fuck does this have to be so _hard_?”

Nursey feels his chest constrict, and without really meaning to, he says, “I was outed at Andover.”

Dex’s eyes go wide. “Shit, Nursey. I never knew that.”

“I don’t really talk about it.” He shrugs, trying and failing to offset his watery smile. “I knew what I was, but it was hard enough being the mouthy brown kid at a mostly white prep school without putting queerness in the mix, and I knew my parents would back me, but I didn’t want them to have an extra reason to worry about me, you know? But junior year, I met this townie guy on the weekend, Lee, and I figured, okay, nobody at Andover’s gonna know him, it’s not like we’ll ever hang out at the places they hang out, so why not give it a try?” He laughs, though it comes out thin. “Third date, we got caught making out by some of my classmates who thought it’d be fun to ‘slum it’.” He makes the scare quotes, lip curling. “One of them wanted to blackmail me, but the others didn’t care; they thought it would be more fun to spread the gossip. So they did.”

“Jesus,” Dex says faintly. He looks nauseated, fingers clenched hard on the wheel. “Were you okay?”

“Eventually, yeah. It was a rough couple of weeks, but –”

“ _Weeks?_ ” Dex shouts, so loudly that Nursey jumps in his seat. Dex’s eyes are wild, expression a mix of anger and incredulity. “They laid you up for _weeks_?”     

“Laid me up?” says Nursey, baffled. And then it clicks, and he feels his own stomach roil. “Shit, Dex, they didn’t – nobody beat me up over it, Jesus. I copped a lot of insults, a couple of people I thought were cool were proven dicks, my hockey gear was vandalised and there were a few, uh, pranks, or attempts at pranks, but it was still Andover, you know? They’d have done more if I’d denied it or whatever, and if I’d been a scholarship kid it would’ve been blood in the water, but I was still rich, still on the hockey team, and my parents were still my parents. It was ugly and cruel and it sucked a lot, but it wasn’t violent, not in the way you’re thinking.”

“Oh,” says Dex, very quietly.  

Nursey’s almost afraid to ask. “At your school, did anyone ever –?”

“Yeah,” Dex breathes, and for an awful moment, he almost looks like he’s going to cry. “In the year above me, this one kid, Rory? I don’t even know if he actually came out or just was outed or what, but he ended up getting jumped at a party. Everyone was drunk, it got way out of hand – I wasn’t there, I didn’t see it happen, but they broke his arm in two places, roughed him up a lot. And my brother –”

Nursey feels a visceral flare of alarm. “Your _brother_ did that?”

“No, no,” Dex says quickly, trying to be reassuring in a tone that’s anything but. “Nick wasn’t there, either. But he laughed about it, afterwards. How Rory wouldn’t be able to jerk off for a while or, you know. Do other gay stuff with his hands. And I know, I know that was years ago now, but I still have to remember it every _fucking_ time he tells me I can’t be what I am, and I _hate_ it.”

Nursey reaches over and puts a hand on Dex’s leg, squeezing gently. He half expects Dex to shrug him off, but when that doesn’t happen, Nursey leaves his hand where it is, thrilling at the contact. Beside him, Dex takes a steadying breath.

“So,” Dex says, after a moment. “So, with PDA, I figure – couple-y, you know?” A high blush warms his cheeks. “Rub their goddamn faces in it. Either one of us needs to tap out for whatever reason, take a break, just – a pinch, if it feels too quiet to talk, or say something about our friend Chad H the lax bro.”

“Ffffuuuuck the lax bros,” Nursey says, and Dex laughs, rich and throaty.

“Fuck them _so hard_ , bro, and not in the good way.” And then, with sudden enthusiasm, “Shit, there’s a rest area at the next exit – you wanna pull in, get some food?”

“Sure,” says Nursey, “yeah, sure, sure –” and then, in a sort of spasm where his brain-to-mouth filter ceases to work, he says, “– and we should try kissing, too.”

Dex nearly swerves the truck into a barrier. “ _What?”_

“Just. You know.” Nursey flaps an inelegant hand. “Make sure we know what we’re doing without an audience. That we won’t get stage fright or start laughing or whatever in front of your family.”

It is, Nursey thinks, the lamest and thinnest of thin, lame excuses for touching mouths since two horny stoners first invented shotgunning. He’s so convinced Dex won’t go for it that he’s got an “or not, it’s chill, whatever” ready to go, when Dex, with a sort of strangled breathlessness, says, “Yeah, okay. That’s a good idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The day I forget to put angst in a fic is the day my soul has died.


	4. Chapter 4

It’s a _terrible_ idea, and Dex wants it more than he wants the Falcs to win the Stanley Cup. He’s acutely aware of Nursey’s hand on his leg, the steady in and out of his breath as he takes the exit and drives them to the rest area. It’s not much, just a gas station with a few picnic tables on the bare ground flanking the parking lot, but it’s also empty, and _that_ makes it perfect. Not that Dex usually gives a shit about who’s watching or not when he’s out with a guy, but that’s because he’s only ever done it in and around Samwell, where he knows the territory and feels safe enough not to assume he’s making a target of himself. But a tiny gas station in the middle of nowhere –

“Stop thinking so loudly,” Nursey murmurs. He drags his bare fingertips over Dex’s leg in the same, reflexive way he has of dragging them over his own. He probably doesn’t even know he’s doing it, but every hair on Dex’s body stands on end regardless.

“I just,” Dex tries, his tongue too thick as he pulls into a parking spot. “There’s nobody here, that’s all. And I thought that was probably good. No – no asshole truckers or whatever.”

Nursey’s lips twitch. “Aren’t you usually the one lecturing me about why it’s classist to stereotype blue-collar workers as ignorant?”

Dex stalls out on answering because yes, he is, and with good fucking reason, but they’re driving to see his parents and he just told Nurse about Rory _and_ his paranoia-induced inability to jerk himself off, and he doesn’t know how to articulate that into a sudden resurgence of old fear about a certain kind of hardworking, barrel-muscular man who keeps a .22 in the cab of his truck and thinks _queer_ is a mortal insult.

But Nursey, somehow, seems to understand anyway. He squeezes Dex’s leg again and says, softly, “I get it, though. We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“No,” says Dex. “I do. Want to. Just – let’s grab some food first, okay?”

“Sure,” says Nursey, and pulls his hand away in service of undoing his seatbelt, leaving Dex to fumble awkwardly with his own.

There’s no diner attached to the gas station, and even if there was, Dex doesn’t think he could sit still long enough to order. Instead, they head into the gas station shop and stock up on all the snacks they usually share on roadies. They do it silently, using what Ransom and Holster call the Sacred D-Man Telepathic Bond to not double up their choices, and when Dex drops his armful of supplies onto the counter alongside Nursey’s, he doesn’t baulk at Nursey paying for all of it. Once, he would’ve bristled at the implication that he couldn’t afford it, but he knows that’s not what this is. No matter how awful Christmas itself is going to be, Nursey’s still going to end up with a free meal, which means he thinks he owes _Dex_ a meal, and buying their pile of chocolate trash and Gatorade goes some way towards keeping it even.

The cashier, who looks exactly as unimpressed as you’d expect anyone to look while working counter at a piece of shit gas station on December 23rd, makes no attempt at chit-chat, for which Dex is absurdly grateful. He takes the carrier bag with their stuff before Nursey can grab it, gauging the weight of the contents against the probable strength of the plastic (it’ll hold for the walk to the truck, but barely: the plastic is tissue-thin and their drinks are heavy) as Nursey precedes him out the door.

They’re almost back to the truck before it hits Dex, like a punch to the stomach, that if he ever wants to kiss Derek Nurse the way he’s always dreamed of kissing him, consequence free, then this is the goddamn time. The snow is falling lightly, tiny white flakes dotting the dark curls of Nursey’s hair, and just as Nursey reaches the cab, Dex drops the bag, thinks _fuck it_ , and closes the distance between them. 

“Hey,” he rasps, “hey, Derek –” and when Nursey turns, Dex kisses him.

He means for it to be slow, and in the opening second where their lips graze and Nursey realises what’s happening, it is. But Dex is on a permanent hair-trigger, and the first time he kisses anyone, some inner Pavlovian circuit always gets tripped: he wants, he _wants_ , and this isn’t just some girl at a kegster or an uninspired Grindr hookup, it’s _Nursey_. Dex makes a tiny frustrated noise and shoves him up against the cab door, one hand buried in Nursey’s hair, the other on his hip, and kisses him with every ounce of finessed desperation and pent-up longing he’s felt since the first day they met.

And Nursey fucking _melts_ into it – melts into Dex, when he’s gorgeous enough to have anyone – his hands coming up to curl around the back of Dex’s neck and somehow, impossibly, pull him in closer. Their mouths slide briefly apart and Dex reangles Nursey’s head to suck on his bottom lip, drawing the pressure out and out before kissing him again. Nursey’s grip on him tightens, blunt nails scratching at Dex’s nape as one hand drops to squeeze his collarbone, stroking his throat with his thumb. His stance shifts, making space for Dex between his legs, and oh, _fuck_ –

The thing about Dex not getting any solo relief is that kissing always gets him hard, which is something he usually tries to hide – but Nursey _knows_ , and somehow that makes him bold enough to grind up against the jut of his hip, hand sliding under Nursey’s shirt to feel the warm muscles jump and twitch when he tugs on Nursey’s hair just so –

“Dex,” Nursey gasps, voice rough and shaky, “Dex, fuck, wait –”

Which is when Dex remembers they’re in a fucking gas station lot in the middle of nowhere, the dropped bag of car snacks strewn in the snowy gravel. He jerks back like he’s been shocked, so appalled at his own presumption that he barely registers Nursey’s blown pupils, the lingering drag of his fingers as he doesn’t quite let go, hands falling to grip the seams of Dex’s coat.

“I’m sorry,” he stammers, flustered and ashamed. “Sorry, I should’ve – should’ve given you more warning, not just ambushed you like that, I –”

“It’s okay,” says Nursey, as breathless as he usually sounds post-game. “It’s chill, I just – the snow, Dex.” He flicks his gaze skywards. “It’s getting heavier.”

Dex looks up and blinks. “Shit,” he says, because Nursey’s right: out of nowhere, the flakes are falling thicker and faster, the sky going grey and ominous. “We need to get going.”

“Yeah,” Nursey echoes. “Going.” He finally releases Dex, who turns away to pick up their fallen purchases. He takes his time with it, carefully putting everything back in the flimsy bag, but when he straightens, Nursey’s still where he left him, kiss-flushed against the cab.

“You’ve got the keys,” Nursey says, in response to Dex’s staring.

Dex feels his cheeks burn. “Oh,” he says, “yeah, shit, right –” and shoves the bag at Nursey, hurrying round to unlock the driver’s side door.

Awkward silence descends as they settle back into the truck. There’s no need to refuel – he brimmed the tank before they set out, and there’s only an hour or two to go, depending on the weather – but as he drives them back to the highway, Dex feels like he’s forgotten something important.

“That was good,” says Nursey, finally breaking the silence.

“Yeah,” croaks Dex, who’s still half-hard despite his mortification. “Yeah, that was, uh – definitely not something I’d want to do in front of my parents.”

It’s the right thing to say: Nursey cracks a grin, and Dex laughs at the easing of tension, forcibly shoving his other feelings into a mental box.

“I dunno,” says Nursey, rummaging in their bag of snacks for the Reese’s cups, “you sure you don’t have an exhibitionist streak?”

Dex imagines ramping Nursey up in public, teasing him and keeping him on edge, and bites back on an inappropriate noise. “If I do,” he says, “it sure as shit doesn’t involve my family watching.”

“Isn’t that the point of this, though? For them to see us together?”

“Well, yeah,” says Dex, “but they won’t see anything real.”

Nursey goes very still at that, and Dex knows instantly that he’s fucked up, but he isn’t sure how. Or rather, he can imagine how, but that explanation only makes sense if Nursey wants what Dex really wants, and Dex has long since trained himself to accept that isn’t true. But then he remembers Nursey against him, Nursey’s thumb swiping across his pulse-point, Nursey making room for him between his legs, and goes drymouthed at the thought that maybe, just maybe, they’re on the same page after all.

“I mean,” he says, then falters. Glances at Nursey, who’s suddenly jerked his head up to listen, licks his lips and tries again, heart pounding in his ears. “I mean, even if it _was_ real, they wouldn’t recognise that, even if they were staring right at us. Doing this, bringing you – they’re still not going to accept me as bi. They’re going to say I’m pranking them, or that I’ve been gay and closeted all this time, and as long as that’s true, we could fuck on the kitchen table and they still wouldn’t see why it mattered – why _you_ matter – because they wouldn’t see all of us.”

Nursey’s answering smile is slow and warm and, incredibly – impossibly, surely – _shy_ , the one thing Dex knows for an actual fact that Derek Malik Nurse is not. But he smiles like he is, like he could be for Dex, and it’s not an unequivocal answer, but then his lips quirk into something slyer, and Nursey says, “I dunno, Poindexter. If we do fuck on your table, they’ll be getting a pretty good eyeful.”

Dex waits a moment, watching as Nursey pops a Reese’s cup into his mouth. “We’ll call it a backup plan, then,” he says, low and sultry. “In case they don’t get the message.”

Nursey chokes on chocolate and peanut butter and still, somehow, manages to look hot doing it.

Dex is _gone_.   


	5. Chapter 5

It’s nearly two hours after the kiss when they pull up at Dex’s childhood home, and Nursey’s bottom lip still aches where Dex sucked it into his mouth. Externally, he’s been acting normal, alternately chirping Dex for his grandma driving and yelling at him to slow the fuck down, because Dex’s two automotive modes are apparently Driving Miss Daisy and Too Fast, Too Furious. They’ve bickered over who got the lion’s share of the sour gummy worms (Nursey) and who deserved the last of the blue Gatorade (Dex), poked fun at each other’s music choices, and otherwise acted as if they’re on a two-man roadie – but except for when they first pulled out of the gas station, they haven’t discussed the kiss.

Which is why, internally, Nursey is the unchillest he’s ever been. As much as he likes to accuse Dex of thinking so loudly he can hear the gears turning, he’s plenty capable of fixation: the difference between them is that whereas Dex gets tenser and louder the more he worries, Nursey gets calmer and quieter, peacing right the fuck out in a way that reads as chill but which is really total seizing paralysis. The whole time they’ve been joking, a part of him hasn’t stopped thinking about the way it felt when Dex backed him up against the truck and kissed him (and kissed him and _kissed him_ , has Nursey ever actually been kissed like that? If so, the memory has now been thoroughly atomised), wondering whether that’s just the intensity with which Dex kisses everyone or if it’s somehow particular to Nursey.

 _God, please let it be particular,_ he thinks, unbuckling his belt without making any move to leave the truck. Dex sits rigid at the wheel, his angry tension back in force now that they’re finally here.

“I told them I was bringing someone,” Dex says, curiously flat. “I didn’t say it was you.”

“I know,” says Nursey. “It’s chill, Dex. You already told me that.”

“I don’t want to go in there.” He stares bleakly ahead in a way that makes Nursey’s chest ache. “If we don’t go in, I can pretend they would’ve accepted us – this – me –”

He stutters into red-faced silence as Nursey, unable to bear it, reaches over and cups Dex’s cheek, so that they’re facing each other. They both inhale at the contact, and Nursey knows that even if that hopeful, stupid part of him is somehow right and Dex really does want to date him for real, this isn’t the time or the place to say so, because something this important shouldn’t be mixed up with a performance for a bunch of hostile witnesses. They have to pretend that it feels pretend while acting like it’s not, but just for this moment, they’re all alone, and Nursey can brush up against that line without quite tipping over.

“Hey,” he says. “Will, it’s okay. You want to bail at any point, you tell me, all right?”

“But it’s Christmas,” Dex says, voice breaking only a little. “Where the fuck else are we going to go, Nursey? Back Samwell? Back to the Haus?” The empty Haus, he means, in a college town where most everything bar the Murder Stop n’ Shop shuts down in the absence of students.

Nursey does some quick – ugh – _maths_ in his head, assessing the distance and time between here and there. “Fuck no,” he says. “We go to my brownstone instead.”

Dex just gapes at him. “Are you serious?”

“Why not?” says Nursey, pulling his hand back. “It took us six hours to get here, and it’s only about three to my place. Three hours in a more-Samwell-than-not direction, even.”

Dex snorts. “Seriously? A ‘more-Samwell-than-not’ direction? Of all the Nurseyish shit you’ve ever said, that’s got to be the most Nurseyish. We have officially reached _peak Nurse_.”

“Oh, you’ve _never_ seen me peak,” quips Nursey, shivering at the way Dex flushes.

“Yeah?” breathes Dex. “But will I, though?”

“You tell me,” says Nursey. He’s trying to put the brakes on himself, but it doesn’t really work: much more of this sort of flirting, and he’s going to have to wait ten minutes before he can respectably go inside.    

Dex is on the brink of answering when something crashes hard onto the bonnet of the truck. They both jump, though only Dex swears, and it takes Nursey precious seconds to realise that the thump was a pair of Dex’s – siblings? Cousins? Relatives, at any rate – slamming their hands on the truck. The culprits are a young woman now whooping on the curb, her long red hair flowing out from under a patterned beanie, and a tall, equally red-haired man, his height evident even though he’s half doubled over with laughter.

“Let the games begin,” Dex mutters.

Nursey looks from Dex to the cackling redheads – siblings, then – and makes a guess at who they are based on their ages. “Nick and Sarah?”

“Nick and Sarah,” Dex confirms, though he looks surprised and a little touched that Nursey got it right.

“Well, then,” says Nursey. He summons his courage, puts his traitor heart in a box, and leans across to peck Dex gently on the cheek. “Let’s give them a show to remember.”


	6. Chapter 6

Dex loves his family, really. He does. But the more time he spends away from them, the harder it is to cope whenever he comes back. Nick and Sarah crash-tackle him the second he steps clear of the truck, and for a moment, it’s right and perfect, the three of them laughing and shoving and hugging, just like they always do.

And then, just like it always does, the teasing starts up instantly.

“Your face, Billy! You should’ve seen your face!” crows Nick, and god, it’s just a stupid name, but Dex had told him, asked him nicely so many times –

“Don’t call me that,” he says, hating the brittle, petulant tone that creeps into his voice. “You know I don’t like it.”

“Aw, widdle Billy,” Sarah coos. “Do your teammates not know how to chirp you right? Do I have to send them pointers along with a stack of your baby photos?”

Behind him, the truck door _thu-thunks_ shut, the gravel crunching underfoot as Nursey saunters over.

“We chirp him plenty,” Nursey says. “We just respect his boundaries.” And he slides an arm around Dex’s shoulders, moving in close in a way that makes both Nick and Sarah move back.

His words are calm, his actions calmer, but all three Poindexter siblings are rendered as silently poleaxed by their combination as if Nursey had blown an airhorn. Dex doesn’t so much step to Nursey’s side as flow there, heart hammering as the gentle pressure of Nursey’s arm anchors him in a way he didn’t know he needed, let alone wanted; Nick and Sarah are straight-up gawking, brown eyes widening even more as Dex puts his arm around Nursey’s waist in turn. Then:

“No wayyyy,” says Sarah, drawling the word as her eyes light up. “You’re fucking with us!” She slaps their brother hard on the shoulder, visibly delighted. “Nick, are you seeing this? He’s actually fucking with us for once!”

Nick snorts, looking the pair of them over, and gives a begrudging eyeroll. “Nice one, William,” he says. “But you know mom’s gonna be pissed you haven’t actually brought a girlfriend.”

Dex’s stomach twists with a mix of anger and frustration – can they not even make it into the actual goddamn _house_ before the bullshit starts? He opens his mouth to say he doesn’t know what, but quiets instantly when Nursey, with that same uncanny knack for timing, kisses him on the cheek and says, in an intimate tone that’s pitched to carry, “You go in ahead. I’ll grab our bags.”

“Sure,” Dex says, dizzily.

“Nice commitment,” Sarah says. “You’re really selling it! Come on, it’s freezing out here. I need eggnog.”

 _Eggnog,_ Dex thinks. _Yes. Immediately._  

They’re on the porch when the front door opens, revealing Dex’s mom. Her red hair is now mostly grey, but her smile is broad as ever as she holds out her arms for him. She’s been shorter than Dex since his first teenage growth spurt, but it still always shocks him a little to realise how much he has to stoop to hug her properly now.

“William! It’s so wonderful to see you!” She steps back, looking him over with a mix of pride and, he realises, no small degree of maternal anticipation. “Now, where’s your other half? I can’t wait to meet her!”

Nick laughs. “Don’t get your hopes up, mom. He just brought a teammate.”

“I brought my _boyfriend_ ,” Dex snaps back, “who happens to _be_ a teammate.”

His mother’s face doesn’t so much fall as quaver mid-descent. “Oh, William” she says, sounding almost disappointed. “Really?”

“Really.”

His mother blinks, then sighs. “Well, whoever he is, I suppose he’s welcome. Your friends always are, you know.” She peers over Dex’s shoulder, watching as Nursey trudges up the walk with a bag slung over each arm. “Which one is he?”

Dex wants to cry, and he fucking _hates_ crying. “Derek,” he says, proud of how steady the name comes out. “Derek Nurse.”

“Do I hear my name?” says Nursey, grinning as he steps up onto the porch. “Hello, Mrs Poindexter – thank you for having me! I’d shake your hand, but –” he hefts the bags sheepishly, “– I need to put these down first.”

“Oh!” says Dex’s mom, in what he recognises as her flustered, charmed register. “Oh, well – you and William will be in his old room, it’s right up the stairs, third door on the left, but you’ll have to forgive me; there’s only one bed made up, because we all thought William was bringing a girlfriend.”

“That’s no problem,” Nursey says, still smiling like none of this hurts. “I’m not a girl, but I’m still his. I assumed we’d be sharing, unless you want to sew me into a bundling bag.” And without waiting to see how this comment lands, he gives Dex a friendly shoulder bump, shoves past Sarah and enters the house, making straight for the prominent staircase. “Third on the left, right?” he says, half-turned to call over his shoulder.

“Right,” echoes Dex’s mom, looking even more flustered now. “You head up.”

Nursey takes another step, then hesitates, looking back again. His smile hasn’t visibly changed, but somehow he makes it into something for Dex alone. “What, you’re not gonna give me a tour of your childhood home?”

Dex takes the out with relish, flinging himself up the stairs behind Nursey. “Oh, yeah,” he says, swatting Nursey’s perfect ass to get him moving again. “We’ll start with the servants’ quarters and go from there.”

The momentum carries them all the way to Dex’s old room, the brief reprieve so heady that Dex forgets to be embarrassed about the unchanged décor – Star Wars posters, old hockey trophies, everything faded and small and his – and kicks the door shut without comment. Nursey dumps the bags on the floor and turns around, and Dex doesn’t know what he’s feeling right now, but he thinks his face might break from the strain of trying to interpret it.

“Holy shit,” he gasps. “Holy _shit_.” He realises he’s actually shaking, right on the edge of mania after barely three minutes at home, and he knows that Nursey sees it, too. Swearing under his breath, Nursey wraps Dex up in a hug, one hand gripping the nape of his neck as the other strokes his back.

“Shhh,” says Nursey, voice low and soft. “Dex, it’s okay, you’re okay, I’ve got you.”  

Dex shoves his face into Nursey’s shoulder, breathing in the scent of him the way he sometimes does in a celly. “How did you do that?” he rasps, clutching the back of Nursey’s sweater. “How the fuck did you just – just –”

“If there’s one thing Andover taught me,” Nursey murmurs, “it’s how to be friendly and polite to other people’s judgy white parents. Believe me, I’ve been greeted with worse and come away with invitations to country clubs. I can handle it.”

“That’s fucking great for you,” Dex snaps, still pressing his face to Nursey’s neck. “I can’t.”

“I didn’t mean it like that –”

“I know, I know, I’m being an asshole –”

“No,” says Nursey. “You’re really not. That scene down there, what all of them did? That felt like collective gaslighting.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Dex mumbles.

“Will,” says Nursey, “no offence, but that’s bullshit. You’re _shaking_ , man.” And then, almost desperately, “Jesus, I’ve never seen you like this. You’re like Ransom on the brink of Coral Reef Mode.”

“I’m not – this isn’t – I don’t have fucking _anxiety_ , Nursey. This isn’t a panic attack.” He forces himself to lift his head, but doesn’t step away. “This is just what family is. It’s always like this, and I always push through. I’ll be fine.”

Nursey looks almost wounded at that, though Dex doesn’t understand why. For a moment, he says nothing at all: just rubs the short curls at Dex’s nape between his fingertips, push-pull-push, and runs his gaze over Dex’s face like he’s looking for cracks in a faultline. Then:

“Let me help you,” he says. “Or let me try, at least.”

“You already are.”

“Well, yeah, but I mean with them, too. Just –” he exhales, clearly choosing his words, “– just let me run interference, okay? I know you’re gonna get riled up, and I know you’ll want to argue back, but what they were doing to you down there, it’s like you’re taking shots at a fogbank. Force won’t work, but I know soft power.” His hand finds its way to Dex’s hip, thumb stroking over the bone, and Dex’s brain shortcircuits completely as Nursey leans in and kisses the edge of his mouth. “Please, Dex. Let me do this for you.”

“Okay,” Dex manages. “I trust you. Okay. You – you do whatever.”

Nursey smiles at him, soft and sure. “I will.” He gives Dex’s hip a parting stroke and then steps back, nodding towards their fallen bags. “I know you’ve got shit in there to put under your tree, wherever it is, so let’s do that first.”

“Okay,” Dex says again, and goes to pull out his carefully pre-wrapped presents: a Samwell scarf for Cait, a Sephora voucher for Sarah, a UK _Top Gear_ DVD for Nick, a folio edition of _Catcher in the Rye_ for Alex, a new set of fishing lures for his dad, a bracelet Lardo helped him pick for his mom. And then there’s another parcel, too, more newly wrapped than the others, stashed in a secret, separate pocket at the very back of the bag. Dex hesitates – thinking, hoping – then leaves it where it is. He’s never missed Christmas at home before, but as his grandmother always says, there’s a first time for everything. And anyway, he can always come back for it later if need be.

“I’m ready,” he says, and straightens up with an armful of presents, ready to face his family.


	7. Chapter 7

“So, William. Are your other teammates dating, or is it just you?”

Sarah delivers the question with a smile that ought to be friendly, but the subtle mocking tone puts Nursey’s teeth on edge. Redfaced, Dex shifts closer to him, pressing their thighs together on the squashy corner couch.

“Chowder – Chris – has a girlfriend,” Dex says, small and tight. “Otherwise, I don’t think so.”

“You should ask him for pointers, then,” Nick snickers.

Nursey makes an expressive gesture, hating Dex’s hunch. “Chowder’s a pretty unique guy. I don’t think he could really teach his approach to anyone, given that it mostly involves being adorably overenthusiastic about the San Jose Sharks. His girlfriend’s great, though.” He tips his head to Dex’s mom and makes himself smile. “Her name is Caitlin, too.”

“I’m sure she’s lovely,” says Mrs Poindexter, voice warm with approval. “Our Cait should be here tomorrow afternoon – she and Alex are meeting up at the airport and coming together. The rest of the family drops by on Christmas day.”

“So there’s plenty of room in the house if you want to switch rooms, Derek,” adds Dex’s dad, in the sort of voice that strongly suggests they take him up on the offer. “Alex wouldn’t mind if you took his bed tonight, I’m sure.”

“That’s a kind offer,” Nursey says. There’s a half beat while Mr Poindexter waits for him to accept or refuse, but Nursey does neither; just broadens his smile in a show of friendly innocence.

Dex drains his eggnog, setting the empty cup down on the coffee table. The noise it makes isn’t loud at all, but Sarah notices anyway.

“More ‘nog, Billy?” she says, teasing.

“No,” Dex mutters. “Thank you.”

“Are you sure I can’t tempt you with any, Derek?” Mrs Poindexter asks. “Our family recipe is something of a specialty around these parts.”

“I’m sure it’s delicious,” Nursey says. “And I’m looking forward to finding out. But if I have any now, I’ll fall right asleep in front of you, and I’d hate to be a bad guest.”

Mrs Poindexter flushes with approval, looking for a second like she’s going to reach over and actually pat his knee. Instead, she flicks her gaze to Dex and says, “You could learn something from Derek’s manners, William.”

“Yeah, cheer up!” says Sarah. “No sulking at Christmas.”

“I’m not –” Dex starts, but shuts his mouth with the suddenness of a flytrap when Nick starts laughing, ducking his head in shame when his mother changes the topic to Sarah’s thesis.

It’s awful. It’s so unspeakably awful, and the worst thing is that the other four Poindexters really are having a good time. They tease each other, too, but never in ways that cause distress like they do with Dex; it’s in-jokes for them and barbs for him, and whether that’s due to malice or a base difference in personalities Nursey doesn’t know, but right now, he doesn’t care. He’s seen Dex angry and frustrated plenty of times both on and off the ice, but he’s never seen him cowed like this, and the wrongness of it breaks his fucking heart.

At Andover, Nursey always knew which kids were messed up by their families: they were the ones who acted like him, albeit for different reasons, feigning chill and talking shit and acting like nothing mattered at all to hide how much it did. He knew his school was a bubble, but he still kind of figured the same basic principles applied elsewhere; except, he’s just now realising, they don’t. Dex doesn’t fit Nursey’s profile for someone who’s been fucked up by emotional abuse, because Nursey’s data is skewed by champagne corpocrats and trust fund socialites; kids who’ve been trained from infancy to channel their frustration quietly inwards, not ever let it show outwardly. Getting riled up the way Dex does, caring enough to get in arguments, sticking to his principles while still admitting fault, changing his views if he thinks he’s wrong but never just to fit in better – in Nursey’s old circle, that’s a sign of resilience, of being raised to believe your autonomy and individuality were more important than pleasing other people.   

Which is why, despite every red flag Dex raised about his family on the long drive over – trenchant biphobia, lowkey racism, enough protracted teasing to result in a genuine psychosexual hangup, albeit one that Nursey finds hot – he’d missed the implications. Dex’s family aren’t well-meaning but clueless, like he’d kind of assumed; they’re abusive asshole gaslighters, treating their son like a whipping boy while telling him the hurt is in his head.

All at once, Nursey understands why Dex reacted so badly to even gentle teasing in frog year; why it’s taken so long for him to learn the difference between friendly banter and jokes made at his expense. _Oh, Christ,_ Nursey thinks, stomach lurching with shame and bile. _I did this to him, too. The whole team did. We chirped him about getting upset at being chirped, and he thought that meant his family was right._

“So, Derek,” says Mrs Poindexter, breaking Nursey’s chain of thought. “How come you’re not with your own family over Christmas?”

Beside him, Dex tenses up again, a spring wound far too tight. Without hesitation, Nursey laces their fingers together, stroking the back of Dex’s freckled hand in quiet reassurance. “Oh, we’ve never really celebrated any of the big religious holidays. My parents have always objected to the secular normalisation of Christian defaults in capitalist America –” he says it fast, with a smile-and-shrug combo designed to infer that his family’s core beliefs are nothing but an eccentric quirk, _what-can-you-do-really?_ , completely divorced from the here and now, “– and anyway, they travel a lot for work. This year, they’re in Venezuela until mid-January, I think. We make a big deal out of birthdays, though, and if someone has a big important life event, we treat that like a festival.” He caps this off with what Lardo, who understands Andover Rules better than anyone else at Samwell, calls his Charity Auction Schmoozer smile, and gestures at the festively decorated room. “This is lovely, though. A nice change of pace. I especially like the reindeer.”

“Thank you!” says Mrs Poindexter. “They’re heirlooms.”

“Your family celebrate any non-Christian holidays, too?” Nick asks, as smug as if this is Nursey’s first time at the Microaggression Rodeo.

Nursey grins at him. “New Year and Labour Day,” he says, straight-faced. “And sometimes the Fourth of July, if we’re all in town. But not Thanksgiving.”

“Why not Thanksgiving?” Sarah asks. “Are you Indian?”

Dex grips Nursey’s hand so hard, he feels his bones grind together.

“Nah,” says Nursey, squeezing Dex back. “Just not big fans of genocide. Or turkey either, for that matter. They’re both pretty terrible.”

Beside him, Dex lets out a strangled bark of laughter. Nick and Sarah try to join in, but there’s an uncertainty to them now, like it’s only just occurred to them that Nursey knows exactly what they’re doing and is trolling the pair of them back.

“You know what I don’t understand?” says Dex’s dad, suddenly. His diction is slow, but there’s a gravity to it that makes them all take notice. He’s smiling, of course, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes, which are brown; the same shade shared by Sarah and Nick, but which bears no resemblance to Dex’s gorgeous amber. He fixes his gaze on Nursey, sharp where his tone is mild. “From what I’ve seen of the Samwell hockey scores, you’re both strong players, maybe even future NHL prospects. And yet you’re willing to risk that chance, to – what? Help William prove a point to us about how he’s all liberal-minded now that he has gay friends?”

Time turns syrup-slow.

Nursey glances at everyone, noting their reactions. Nick and Sarah have both lit up like the Christmas tree, but Dex’s mother just looks embarrassed, as though she’d prefer the elephant stay unnamed. And then there’s Dex, who’s shocky and pale, his pulse now racing fast enough that Nursey can feel it beating through their joined hands.

Upstairs, before, he asked Dex to let him handle his family; to let Nursey turn their barbs away by acting like they weren’t really barbs at all. That tactic works to keep things civil, but he understands now that _civil_ isn’t what Dex needs or wants. He asked Nursey to come here, not to shield him from his family, but to help him fight back – to show them the truth of who Dex is, not act like it doesn’t matter.

Nursey’s heart twists behind his ribs. Has anyone ever defended Dex in front of his family before? Has anyone ever made them see how much they’re hurting him _? Fuck the Andover Rules,_ he thinks, and smiles his sharpest smile.

“Sir,” says Nursey, relaxing his voice in the way that means he’s not relaxed at all, “with all due respect, I’m not here to prove anything except that I love your son enough to want to spend Christmas with him.” He lifts their joined hands up to his lips and drops a kiss on Dex’s knuckles, featherlight and quick. “Sure, there’s no out players in the NHL right now, but that’ll change sooner or later, and honestly? If my getting signed is conditional on not admitting I like men, it’s not a job I want. I know what the closet looks like, and even if we weren’t together –” he flicks his gaze to Dex, heart pounding at the raw, stunned look on his handsome face, “– I wouldn’t go back in there for the sake of a paycheque. Not now, not ever.”

“You might be gay, and that might be your choice,” says Mr Poindexter, voice darkening, “but I don’t think that entitles you to drag my boy down, too.”

And this time, it’s Dex who cuts in over Nursey; Dex, who’s visibly _furious_.

“Derek’s not dragging me anywhere except away from _you_ ,” he snarls. His eyes are bright as burning scotch, and the only thing more beautiful than the scornful look on his face is his family’s answering shock. “You know what you all are in this? You’re flat Earthers. _Flat-fucking-Earthers_. I’ve told you for years that I’m bi, but even though it’s a goddamn scientific fact that people like me exist out there, you’re clinging onto this notion that I’m making it up for, for – what? To piss you off? Because I need another goddamn part of my life that all of you think is stupid?” He laughs, the sound cracked and jagged. “All this time, I thought you were doing it out of pure stubborn ignorance, nothing else, and maybe that’s a part of it, but I see you now. I _see_ you, dad. Deep down, you think that gay is gay, and you don’t what that to be what I am because you think it’s _wrong_. And you know what? Your phobic ass can get _fucked_.”  

“William!” his mother gasps, but Dex is already on his feet and hauling Nursey with him.

“No,” says Dex. He grips Nursey’s hand and tugs him close. “We’re leaving.” And then, with Bittle-esque savagery that would do their captain proud, “Y’all have a merry damn Christmas.”

Nursey can’t help it; he bursts out laughing, leaning in to drop a kiss on the side of Dex’s neck. “Go _off_ , Poindexter,” he says, and when Dex’s mom makes a scandalised noise, he winks at her, unrepentant. “Raincheck on that eggnog, sorry. Maybe another time.”

And before anyone can reply to that, Dex hauls Nursey out to the hallway, up to the room to grab their bags and back out into the night.


	8. Chapter 8

“Here,” says Nursey, gently taking the keys from Dex. He’s tried three times to open the truck, but his hands are shaking too badly to manage it. “Let me. Besides, you’ve been drinking; I haven’t.”

“Sure,” says Dex. He scrubs a wrist across his eyes; the snow stopped falling a while ago, but a stray flake must have caught him. “It’s not like I know where we’re going anyway.”

_Nursey said he loves me._

He hasn’t been in the truck’s passenger seat for years; not since before he inherited it from Nick. He watches Nursey take the wheel and doesn’t remember to buckle up until they’re out of the street, hands fumbling in the dark. It’s after 7pm and the snowy roads are muffled quiet, nothing to see and nothing to hear.

_Nursey said he loves me._

_Did he mean it? If he did, does he only mean platonically? Or was he just lying to piss off my dad?_ Ransom and Holster say they love each other all the time, but they’re hardly a representative sample of what Shitty calls _brocial mores_ ; Dex once walked in on them arguing over which one had the prettier dick, which was weird even before he realised Rans was saying that Holster did, and vice versa.

“That was kinda badass, Will,” says Nursey, the words crashing into him like surf. “You really let them have it.”

Dex swallows sickly. “I can’t believe I did that. I can’t believe I told my dad to get fucked right to his _face_ , oh _god_ , Nursey, I – I ruined Christmas, I ruined their _Christmas_ , I can’t –” he’s suddenly finding it hard to breathe, pulse thundering in his ears, “– Jesus, what the fuck am I meant to say to them now, to any of them? What if they call me? What if they _don’t_?” He’s starting to see spots, a tightness in his stomach like he just missed a game-winning shot at goal. “Can you still get kicked out of home if you don’t live there anymore?”

“Dex –”

“This was a bad idea, I should’ve just kept my mouth shut, should’ve –”

“Dex –”

“– let them think what the hell they wanted, like what does it fucking matter? Why do I fucking _care_ so much?”      

“ _Dex!_ ” Nursey shouts, and Dex doesn’t know when he pulled the truck over, only that Nursey’s suddenly leaping out of it and running around to the passenger door, opening it and reaching in and undoing Dex’s buckle as he helps him out into the street. Dex has no idea where they are, but it doesn’t matter anyway; he can’t fucking _breathe_ , and suddenly Nursey’s holding him and Dex is gasping, pressing his face to Nursey’s throat and wondering how something can be so fucked up and so perfect all at once.

“You’re allowed to care, Will,” Nursey’s saying, voice cracked. “Jesus, you’re _allowed to care_ , those people are assholes, they don’t –” they’re kneeling in the snow, the truck’s headlights casting them both in a sideways halo, “– don’t deserve to have someone like you, and all they do is treat you like shit.” He’s rubbing Dex’s back, firm strokes in a regular rhythm that helps Dex remember how breathing works. His inhales grow steadily slower and deeper, and as the snow melts into his clothes, he starts to come back to himself.

“I’m all right,” he says, after a moment. “I mean, that was all fucked up back there, but I’m – I’m here again, now, I think.” His lifts his head and flushes hot-cold all over at the look on Nursey’s face. “Thanks, Derek. I – thanks.” And then, the words coming out like a hiccup, “I’m just sorry I dragged you all the way out here for nothing.”

“This isn’t nothing,” says Nursey, soft and raw. “Dex, you’ve gotta – you have to know that I meant what I said back there.” He lifts a hand and, very slowly, smooths an errant lock of hair away from Dex’s forehead, warm palm lingering on his cheek. “This was never pretend for me. And if I’ve read this wrong, I’ll never bring it up again, I swear, we’ll just be what we’ve always been, but if there’s even a chance that –”

“Nursey,” Dex says, voice rough, “this was never pretend for me, either.”

“Oh, thank fuck,” Nursey whispers, and kisses him.

It’s not a gentle kiss by any means, but there’s a gentleness of intent to it – the way Nursey cradles Dex’s face, how lightly he leans in – that makes Dex feel like nothing and nobody ever has before. He surges forwards, kissing back with both hands planted on Nursey’s hips, and when they finally break apart, their panted breaths hang visibly in the air.

“We should get back in the truck,” says Nursey, green eyes bright. “Start driving before we freeze.”

Dex laughs. “I feel like I’m being cockblocked by the weather.”

“We get indoors, you won’t be cockblocked by anything.”

Dex groans and kisses him again, hard and fast, imagining all the things he’ll get to do with Derek Nurse in an empty house. And then, because nobody on the Samwell Mens’ Hockey Team survives frog year under Shitty’s guidance without getting that particular lesson drummed into them, he breaks off and says, “Just because I can’t jerk off doesn’t mean you can’t tell me no. Like, you don’t have to feel obligated –”

“Dex,” says Nursey, grinning now. “I know that. I was there when Shitty gave us all the Big Consent Speech, remember? Neither of us owes the other sex just because we’ve said we’re doing this whole –” he gestures between them, “– relationdateship thing.”

Dex shuts his eyes and presses their foreheads together, smiling in the dark. “Now who’s quoting Daria?”

“Both of us,” Nursey says, and leans in, putting his mouth to Dex’s ear. “But just for the record, when we get to my house? You have a green light to _wreck_ me.”  

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Dex groans, and kisses him again.

They’re both considerably colder and more snowsoaked when they finally get back in the truck, but even though Dex can’t feel his knees, it was worth it.   

_Nursey said he loves me. Said that he meant it._

_I think I mean it, too._


	9. Chapter 9

By rights, the drive to the brownstone ought to be the longest of Nursey’s life: instead, the time flies by. Though Dex has several more anxious moments – he makes the early decision to turn his phone off, not wanting to risk a family call – the overall mood is light. They’re both unburdened and heady with it, grinning stupidly over the gearshift like neither can quite believe this gets to be real. The heavier snow of afternoon has long since ceased to fall; both skies and roads are clear for them, the moon a bright benediction. They don’t stop for food, though they left before Dex’s mom served dinner, snacking instead on their leftover gas station purchases.

“We’re both such idiots,” Dex says at one point, reaching over to loop a curl behind Nursey’s ear. “We could’ve been doing this for years.”

Nursey laughs. “Technically, we _have_ been doing this for years. Playing hockey, driving, arguing, you eating all my favourite candy –”

“Takes one to know one, gummy thief!”

“– valid, but my point stands. We’re still _us_ , Dex. We always were.” He reaches up, grabs Dex’s hand and quickly kisses his fingertips before turning back to the road. “We just get to do more with it now.”

“Change of topic, Nurse; I’m amped up enough as it is.”

“Chill,” says Nursey. “Wanna listen to 21 Pilots?”

Dex throws an M&M at him.

Driving so late so close to Christmas, they make good time, and when Nursey pulls up at his parents’ brownstone, less than three hours have passed.

“Holy shit,” says Dex, eyes widening as the gate opens and the door ahead goes up. “Nursey. Derek. You have _off-street parking_.”

“Are you chirping me right now?” says Nursey, privately thanking the vestigial sense of Boy Scout preparedness that prompted him to pack not only his keys to the house, but the electronic tag to the front gate and garage. “I honestly can’t tell if you’re chirping me.”

“Maybe later,” says Dex. “Right now, I’m just impressed your rich people money got put towards something useful.”

“I’ll let that one slide,” says Nursey, lips twitching as he turns off the engine. “C’mon. I’ll show you the place.”

Keying his code into the security system, Nursey leads Dex inside through the garage entrance. It’s habit to remove his shoes and put them on the rack, though seeing Dex do likewise prickles his skin with restless anticipation.

“Bathroom,” he says, pointing to the relevant door – and then, because they’ve just come off a three hour drive, “I’m just gonna, uh –”

“Sure,” says Dex, and patiently waits while Nursey does what needs doing. It’s just like when they share a hotel room on a roadie: Dex goes in second, leaving Nursey to panic about the state of his lube and condom supplies, and oh god this is Nursey’s _house_ , it’s _nothing_ like a roadie and he needs to chill out before he has an aneurysm.

By the time Dex re-emerges, Nursey has fretted himself right into Chill Autopilot, which in this context means talking inanely about his house like he’s giving a guided tour. As he leads Dex through the downstairs foyer and up to the second level, he can’t stop rambling about where the TV is and what channels they get and _oh, there’s the kitchen, we’ve got a bunch of takeout menus for decent places in the drawer if you get hungry later, but also there’s mac n’ cheese in the cupboard because I_ always _want mac n’ cheese when I’m here_ –   

“That’s nice, Derek,” Dex says, amused and fond and fucking sultry, “you want me to look at your spice rack, too?”

“Upstairs,” Nursey breathes. “My bedroom’s upstairs, come on –”

He grabs Dex’s hand and tugs him along, just barely remembering to flip the lights so they can see where they’re going. They hurtle up the stairs at a pace just shy of running – Nursey lets out a manic giggle – and almost knock into a side-table on the landing. Nursey slows again as they pass it, breathing ragged for reasons that have nothing to do with the trip upstairs, only dropping Dex’s hand when they reach the door.

Dex presses him up against it, chest to back, lips grazing the sensitive skin behind his ear. “That light still green, sweetheart?”

“The greenest,” Nursey groans, “fuck, _Will_ –”  

Dex runs his hands up Nursey’s flanks, a teasing touch that makes him shudder. He sets his mouth to Nursey’s neck and sucks a hickey into the skin, just hard enough that Nursey moans. He blindly finds the handle and turns it, the door swinging inwards just in time for Dex to manoeuvre him up against the nearest wall and kiss him with an intensity that leaves Nursey weak-kneed. The lights aren’t on, but even when the door swings shut, they don’t need to be: moonlight streams in through the frosted glass of the bedroom window, cool and blue and beautiful.

“Can you really have multiples?” Nursey asks, tugging urgently at Dex’s shirt.

“Yeah,” says Dex, his rough hands warm on the skin of Nursey’s hips. His grin turns wicked. “Why? There something you want to do to me, Nursey?”

By way of answer, Nursey puts both palms to Dex’s chest and walks him backwards. Dex goes willingly, shedding his shirt to reveal a broad, muscular chest. Of course Nursey’s seen him shirtless before, but never like this, and he can’t help running a reverent hand over Dex’s stupidly well-defined abs and pecs. The boy is _cut,_ and Nursey has plans to map out every inch of him sometime in the future, but right now, there’s a more pressing option.

“I want to blow you,” he murmurs, leaning in to suck his own hickey into the hinge of Dex’s jaw. “I want you to fuck my mouth.”

“Shit,” Dex breathes, “yeah, we can – fuck, we can do that.”

“Good,” says Nursey, pulling his own shirt over his head. He grins at Dex, relishing his heated attention, and reaches over to unzip his fly. Dex inhales sharply, clearly hard; Nursey grazes the heel of his palm across the obvious bulge in Dex’s briefs, then eases his waistband over his hips so that Dex can step out of his trousers.

Pupils blown, Dex pulls Nursey in by the back of the neck and kisses him, hands roaming over his chest. His nipples are hard and peaked, and when Dex pinches them, Nursey makes a shocked, needy noise and kisses back harder, urging him to do it again. Dex obliges, grinning playfully into the kiss. Still toying with Nursey’s left nipple, he slides his other hand into his hair, fingers feathering through the dense, dark curls, and gives an experimental tug.

Nursey moans; Dex does it again, fingernails scraping along his scalp.

“You like that, huh?”

“ _Yes_.”

“Shit,” says Dex, in reverent tones. “You’re fucking perfect, you know that?”

By way of answer, Nursey sinks slowly to his knees and looks up at Dex through long, dark lashes. Running his palms over Dex’s thighs, he noses the seam of his tented briefs, smirking as he tugs them down. Dex makes a wordless noise and steps out of those, too, naked and firm and perfect.

And also, coincidentally, hung like a fucking horse: his cock is long and thick and, like Nursey’s own, uncut, which is a pleasant surprise, the base surrounded by tight auburn curls that have clearly been trimmed and neatened.

Nursey’s eyes must widen as he takes this in, because Dex huffs a laugh and says, “Having second thoughts?”

“The opposite, actually,” Nursey says. “We all have our sexual specialties, William. Some of us can do multiples –” he leans in, grinning wickedly, “– and some of us have no gag reflex.”

And before Dex can answer, Nursey proves it, stretching his jaw to swallow him down to the root.

Dex makes a noise that has hitherto only existed in Nursey’s sexual fantasies, raw and greedy and desperate. Nursey moans around him, pulling back just far enough to give proper head, thumbs stroking Dex’s inner thighs as he learns the weight and salt of him, working his tongue as a counterpoint to fluctuating suction. He lets his eyes fall shut, savouring the sensations; his jaw creaks slightly, but Nursey ignores it, letting himself be overwhelmed by Dex in the best way possible.

And then Dex slides both hands in his hair, petting along his scalp. Nursey’s eyes snap open: he looks up, mouth stretched obscenely around Dex’s cock, and does his best to nod by blinking, swallowing just that little bit deeper to reaffirm what he wants.

“ _Derek_ ,” Dex breathes, awed, and starts to fuck Nursey’s mouth – slowly at first, but harder and deeper once he cottons to the fact that Nursey wasn’t lying, that he really can take every inch. Dex groans at the realisation, tightening his grip on Nursey’s hair in just the right way. It’s like sparks going through him, lighting him up; he’s almost painfully hard, but doesn’t reach down to touch himself, preferring the tight, directionless friction of his clothes whenever his hips jerk forward.

“Look at you,” Dex pants, and takes one hand from Nursey’s hair to run his thumb over his stretched-out lips. “So fucking beautiful, I can’t – I’m so close, sweetheart, I –”

He goes to lift his hand away, but Nursey stops him, reaching up to hold it in place. Dex _whimpers_ , breathing fast and raggedy as he comes so deep in Nursey’s throat that he doesn’t taste the first pulse of it, pulling back to catch some on the back of his tongue and swallowing deliberately, licking his lips like a cat with cream. He sucks Dex through the aftershocks, loving how visibly shaken he is, only pulling off completely when Dex is panting from overstimulation.

Nursey flows to his feet and pulls Dex close, fingers tracing patterns in the sweat of his back.

“Derek,” Dex rasps, his voice as fucked-out as if he was the one with a cock in his throat, “fuck, sweetheart. C’mere.” He kisses Nursey, chasing the taste of himself in a way that’s stupidly fucking hot; Nursey shudders and leans into him, clinging to those broad, strong shoulders as Dex, hands shaking, finally divests Nursey of his pants and boxers both. They stagger backwards to the bed and tumble onto the counterpane, kissing and clutching and frotting in an effort to position themselves without actually letting go. Nursey is still desperately hard, and the first time Dex gets a hand on him, he moans into his collarbone, fucking his fist until it becomes too much, too soon and he has to back off again.

“We really are,” says Dex, half breathless, half laughing, “such absolute _fucking_ idiots not to have done this sooner, Nurse, you know that?”

Nursey groans and kisses his throat. “I know I am, but what are you?”

“An idiot,” Dex says, running his fingers through Nursey’s hair. He’s lying on his back with Nursey sprawled along his torso, and even in the cool, blue light, his eyes are molten-warm. “Your idiot, though.”

“Sap,” says Nursey, resting his chin on Dex’s chest. “But an accurate sap.” He hesitates, heart swelling as he slides that extra inch forward, kissing the edge of Dex’s mouth. “I’m your idiot, too.”


	10. Chapter 10

Dex’s mind and body are buzzing, so overwhelmed by the everything of Derek Nurse that he doesn’t instantly notice when he starts to get hard again. It’s only when Nursey’s clever fingers spider up his spitslicked length that he realises, and then as much because of the murmured, “Fuck, you really can,” as the physical contact.

“I really can,” Dex confirms, grinning as he folds his elbows up behind him, head propped on his arms.

Nursey sways upright, straddling Dex’s thighs. His skin is smooth and gorgeously soft, the banded tattoo encircling his right bicep accentuating his flawless complexion. Dex, with his work-roughened hands and all-over freckles, almost feels guilty for touching him, and yet there’s a hungry part of him that wants to mark Nursey up, too: to leave behind visual proof of the fact that he was allowed here, trusted with something wonderful.

Nursey cocks his head, lips quirking playfully. “What?”

“Nothing,” says Dex. “You’re just – you’re so beautiful, you know?”

Nursey flushes, a dusky blush that starts in the hollow of his throat and spreads to his sternum. He’s muscular, particularly his arms, but there’s a litheness to him that Dex, who spent years feeling self-conscious about his size before his muscle filled out to match his height, finds captivating.

“What,” Nursey teases, running a hand over Dex’s abs. “Like you’re not?”

“Of course I’m not,” says Dex, and blinks in confusion when Nursey startles. “Seriously? You have eyes, Nurse. You know I’m not the pretty one.” _Here_ , he means to say, _not the pretty one_ here, but somehow the last word doesn’t make it out.

“Dex,” says Nursey. “You’re stupidly hot. You’re the hottest guy on our team, and our _entire team_ is hot.”

Dex laughs. “Sure. Right. Whatever you say, Nursey.”

“You think I’m the only one who thinks so?”

“Chowder doesn’t count,” says Dex, not unreasonably. “I love the guy, but he thinks _sharks_ are cute. Like, actual kawaii-cute, not just neat-looking.”

Nursey stares at him. “First, don’t think we’re not having a conversation at some point about how and why you know what kawaii is, because _that is happening_. And second, I’m not just talking about Chowder. Hell, I’m not even just talking about _me_. You, William Poindexter, outscore all of us on the hotness section of the Rate My Athletes website, which I know you know exists – how the hell are you not aware of this?”

Dex squirms on the mattress. “You don’t have to lie to me, you know.”

“You want me to prove it?”

“No,” says Dex, “because there’s nothing _to_ prove.”

“ _Yes there fucking is_ ,” snaps Nursey, and before Dex can protest, Nursey is up and rummaging through his discarded clothes for his phone.

“Nursey,” Dex says, “c’mon, this is stupid –”

“It’s not stupid,” says Nursey, fishing his iPhone out of his pants. Typing rapidly into his browser, he makes a triumphant noise and leaps back onto the bed, restraddling Dex and shoving the luminous screen in his face. “See? That’s your score, there. And this –” he pulls the phone away, tapping through to another screen, “– is mine, and this –” he does it again, “– is Chowder –” again, “– and Tango –” again, “– and Whiskey –”

“All right!” Dex swats the phone away, face red with embarrassment. He turns his head, staring at the wall. “You’ve made your point.”    

“Hey.” Nursey’s hand is warm on his cheek, coaxing him to turn again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just thought… you like empirical data, right?”

Dex manages a weak smile. “You know I do.”

Nursey strokes a thumb over his cheekbone, gazing fondly down at him. “So I thought I’d give you some. If you can’t take my word for it, you might at least defer to external consensus.”

“It’s people on the internet, Nurse.”

“Still, though.”

Dex shuts his eyes, unable to bear the look on Nursey’s face. “I don’t understand why this matters to you.”

“It matters to me,” says Nursey, unbearably gentle, “because you’re gorgeous and brave and passionate and _stunningly hot_ , Will, and you deserve to feel secure in yourself and happy about all those things. Except that, somewhere along the line, some asshole or assholes unknown convinced you of the opposite, and as I can’t go back in time and tell them to fuck right off, it becomes my pleasure and privilege to change your mind in the present.”

Dex’s eyes snap open, heart rabbiting in his chest. He looks at Nursey for any sign of mockery, the slightest hint of exaggeration, but finds none, and that – Dex has no idea what the fuck to do with that.

“My siblings,” he blurts, and instantly wishes he hadn’t. Looks away again, swallowing around the words. “It was always a running joke with them, how I got the weirdest genes. I’m the only one who got my uncle’s stupid sticking-out ears; Alex and Cait got mom’s blue eyes and Nick and Sarah got dad’s, but mine are just this weird-ass colour; paintwater, Sarah calls it. All of them can tan in summer, but I can’t; I just freckle and burn. We all got mom’s hair, but theirs is red or auburn and mine looks like carrots. I don’t mind being the tallest – it’s good on the ice – but I was such a fucking disproportional kid before I grew into it, and they… they never were.”

“Fuck them,” Nursey says, fiercely. “I don’t care if they’re blind or just plain jealous, but either way, they’re _wrong_. You’re amazing, Dex. It’s not just your looks; it’s the way you inhabit yourself. When you first came to Samwell, I – I made a lot of assumptions about you.”

“To be fair,” says Dex, “I made a lot of assumptions about you, too. I was an ass.”

“Well, so was I. But you were always a magnetic ass, even on the days when I wanted to throttle you.”

“And you were always beautiful,” Dex says softly, reaching up to lace their fingers together. “It made me furious sometimes, how beautiful you were. All put together and calm, and you never – you never got rattled, never get so mad that you lost your words; I’ve seen you pissed, and it’s like you find more of them instead, more words and better, and all I can do is make noises.”

“We can’t all be poets,” Nursey says, smiling.

“True,” says Dex, and draws him in gently, kissing the delicate skin of his wrist. “Some people are poetry, too.”

Nursey makes a punched-out noise and surges forward, kissing Dex back against the pillows. Dex falls willingly, gasping when Nursey reaches up and pins their joined hands over his head. Nursey’s cock rubs up against his, an electric frisson; Dex groans and frees his other hand, the better to stroke the hard muscle of Nursey’s thigh.

“Here’s my proposal,” Nursey rasps, leaning in to nip at Dex’s ear. “I’m going to ride you the way you deserve to be ridden, and once you’re close, you’re going to throw me down and fuck me the way I _really_ want to be fucked.” 

“I am,” Dex gasps, “so _very_ on board with that proposal, _fuck_ –”

“I thought you would be,” Nursey says, smug in a way that’s somehow hot instead of insufferable, and drops his hand to reach for the bedside table. He fumbles blindly for a moment, then straightens up again, a condom in one hand and a bottle of lube in the other. Grinning, he tosses the condom to Dex and uncaps the lube, back arching prettily as he reaches around to prep himself. He tips his head back, thighs flexing as he lifts his hips, and Dex ignores the condom in favour of propping himself on his elbows, breathing ragged as he watches. On the ice, Nursey is all quick, brutal efficiency; in everyday life, he’s a walking accident, constantly clipping his elbow on doorframes or stumbling over chairs; but in bed, he moves like a dancer, sinuous and controlled. He leans back further, one hand braced on Dex’s shin as he works himself open with the other; his cock is flushed, tipped back against his belly by the angle, a smear of precum gleaming against his treasure-trail.

All Dex can hear in the world is his breathing and, very faintly, the slick sounds Nursey is making with his fingers. He ought to roll the condom on, but he doesn’t want to look away for long enough to do it; especially not when Nursey starts whining in his throat, tiny gasping sounds that, assuming Dex wasn’t hard already, would be enough to get him there all on their own.

“I’m ready,” Nursey gasps suddenly, straightening as he flicks his gaze to Dex’s cock. “Why aren’t you?”

“I wanted to watch you,” Dex husks out. “Want you to do it for me.”

Nursey wipes his fingers on his thigh and picks up the condom, tearing the packet. “Gonna ask me nicely?”

“ _Please_ ,” he says, and shudders all over as Nursey rolls it onto him, accompanied by a final slick of lube.

“Ready?” Nursey asks, breathless before they’ve even begun, and Dex can only nod, throat tightening as Nursey moves forward, lines himself up and starts to sink onto him, slow and sure.

Dex makes an unintelligible noise, mouth falling open in a mix of awe and pleasure. Nursey watches him, green eyes dark as moss, and settles as he seats himself. For a moment, they’re balanced together in stillness, Dex overwhelmed by the sudden clench of _hot_ and _tight_ , with Nursey poised above him like a statue.

And then Nursey starts to move, rolling his hips as he stretches his arms up over his head, for all the world like he’s grinding to music no one else can hear. It’s the hottest thing Dex has seen in his life; he lets out a noise that’s half a groan and half a cry, hips thrusting up of their own accord. Nursey’s rhythm barely falters; his bites his bottom lip and keeps going, working himself on Dex’s cock in a languid, maddening way that alternates between fast and slow, the slickhot slide of him somehow even better than his mouth.

Dex feels his pleasure build and build in the slow, sure way his second orgasms always do, a distant wave inexorably headed for shore. He’s openly panting when Nursey starts to twist his hips, corkscrewing as he falls and rises, rises and falls, the motion of it violent enough that he’d slip right off of a smaller partner. Dex has slept with plenty of people who find the size of his body and cock a turn-on, but he’s never been with someone who’s used that fact to make things better for _him_ before, the way Nursey is doing now.

Abruptly, the distance between them is intolerable; Dex needs to touch, to taste, to _take_ , and Nursey is ripe for it, there and _his_.

In a single fluid movement, Dex lifts himself up off his elbows and grabs Nursey’s hips, stilling him. He gives a hard thrust, grinding up into him at an angle that makes Nursey moan, and says, in response to the look he gets, “My turn.”

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Nursey gasps, chest flushing as Dex manhandles him down and onto his back with slightly more force than necessary. Nursey’s eyes are already blown, but somehow darken even more as Dex hooks his arms under Nursey’s thighs and spreads him open, leaning in just close enough to suck on his bottom lip. His cock bumps slickly up against Nursey’s balls, too high; Dex rises and half-turns, reaching back to snag a pillow and shove it under Nursey’s hips. Nursey moans, low and encouraging, keeping his free leg splayed as Dex guides himself back into him. He makes the first stroke smooth, controlled, as much to ensure Nursey’s comfort as to steady himself, but the instant Nursey arches his back, Dex shoves his arm back under his thigh and fucks in deeper, knee to elbow, folding him almost in half.

Nursey groans and tips his head back, baring his perfect throat. Dex drops his mouth to it, peppering kisses up his jaw and beneath his ear until Nursey cups his head in his hands and drags him in for a kiss. It’s jagged and messy, broken with every gasped exhale; Dex shifts his stance for better leverage, pressing his forehead to Nursey’s as he fucks the breath from his body.

“Oh fuck,” Nursey moans. His eyes are wide open, fingers digging at Dex’s traps as he tries to rock up against him, “Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck _Will_ –”

“C’mon, sweetheart,” Dex pants, “c’mon, I’ve got you –”

Nursey makes a noise like he’s dying, his body a vice as he arches up and comes untouched. The sight and feel combined is so spectacular, Dex barely lasts a half-dozen strokes before he’s coming again in turn, the spasm of Nursey’s aftershocks pushing him over the edge. They collapse together, Dex releasing Nursey’s legs and only just remembering to catch his own weight on his arms as Nursey, boneless, sprawls beneath him, shuddering like a racehorse.

“That was,” says Dex, but can’t find any more words for it.

“Stay in me,” Nursey slurs, throat working as he swallows. He’s sheened with sweat, Dex coming away with salt on his tongue when he kisses his temple. “Oh fuck, I – _ahhhh_!” The groan becomes a desperate whine, Nursey writhing as Dex shifts his hips.

“Shit,” Dex breathes, “you’re still – are you still –?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Nursey sobs, “oh fuck please, please –”

Dex kisses his forehead and obliges, fucking into him with gentle thrusts. He’s only half-hard, but that doesn’t seem to matter to Nursey, and it increasingly doesn’t matter to Dex, his body already struggling to beat its refractory record.

“Shhh,” says Dex, thumbing a tear from Nursey’s cheek, “shhh, hey, whatever you need, I’ve got you, I’ve got you –”

“Please,” Nursey whispers, ragged and raw. “Please, please –”

“Tell me what you need, Derek.”

“Just – hold me, be in me, I –”

“Okay,” Dex murmurs, overwhelmed to be so trusted; Nursey is _wrecked_ because of him, and now Dex has the privilege of putting him back together. “Okay.”

Rising back up onto his knees, he slides his palms along Nursey’s forearms, dragging his hands up over his head. He holds them loosely for a moment, gauging Nursey’s reaction to this, and only once he’s satisfied does he take Nursey’s wrists in one firm hand and press them together, pinning him in place. With his other hand, his right, he helps wrap Nursey’s left leg around him, feelings the muscle tremble and twitch. It’s heavy and slightly awkward – Nursey’s trying to take some of the weight, though he can’t seem to manage much at all – but Dex is strong enough to cope, and as his cock gets all the way back to hard, he starts to move in him again, shallow and gentle, petting the underside of Nursey’s thigh.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, voice full of wonder. “Look at you all fucked out for me, all full of me –” he punctuates this with a slightly firmer thrust, “– so fucking beautiful, look at you –”

Nursey flexes against the hold Dex has on his wrists and outright _wails_ , thin tears leaking from his eyes as he uses his meagre remaining strength to coax Dex deeper into him.

It’s the most intense sex of Dex’s life, exquisitely filthy and intimate in a way he can scarcely handle. Nursey is utterly undone, but slowly comes back to himself by degrees, panting and shuddering as Dex moves in him. Nursey was never chasing a second orgasm; it was just that the first one never quite finished. Even so, there’s a moment when he hits the closest thing to a peak he seems capable of coming, his breath shuddering into rasps, but there’s no completion to it.

Slowly, gradually, Dex gentles Nursey down from his high, his thrusts getting slower and slower until he finally stills completely. His arms are aching from the strain, but he can’t stop smiling, leaning in to kiss the corner of Nursey’s mouth, the line of his jaw, the soft skin of his throat.

“Come back to me,” he murmurs. He gives Nursey’s wrists a final squeeze before letting them go; Nursey twitches his fingers, but doesn’t move his arms. Seeing this, Dex helps Nursey put his leg back down and slowly pulls out of him, knotting the condom with shaking hands. Glancing around, he spies a box of tissues on the bedside table, grabs a handful and cleans Nursey up as tenderly as he can, heart aching at the smile he gets for wiping Nursey’s cheeks.  

Only then does he lie down beside him, making Nursey his little spoon as he presses against him, chest to back. He didn’t come a third time, but he feels at peace in a way he never has before except just after orgasm, unworried about the future and assured of what he has.

He hugs Nursey closer, kissing the nape of his neck.

“I love you,” he says, quietly. “I didn’t say it before, but I do, Derek. I’ve loved you for so long, I think I’ve forgotten what it feels like not to.”

Nursey shivers; he doesn’t turn – Dex frankly doesn’t think he can – but takes a hold of Dex’s hand and drags it upwards, kissing the heart of his palm. His voice is ragged and throaty still, but even so, his answering smile is audible.  

“I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene was written while listening to Open Heart (feat. Lisse) by Morgan Page on repeat, and coincidentally ranks among the smuttiest things I've ever produced. YOU'RE WELCOME.


	11. Chapter 11

They sleep like the dead, waking only to turn right-way up on the bed and burrow under the blankets. When morning comes, they’re still twined together, Nursey’s head on Dex’s chest, the two of them breathing in quiet rhythm.

It’s Christmas eve, and Nursey is home in every way that matters.

“Hey,” says Nursey, kissing Dex to wake him up. “Hey, you there?”

Dex groans. “Oh, don’t do that. You’ll ruin it.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Be a morning person. It’s unnatural.”

Nursey lifts his head to look at the bedside clock. “It’s midday, Dex, and for fuck’s sake, how long have you known me? Dawn is _evil_.”

“Knew I married you for a reason,” Dex mumbles, nuzzling into the pillow. “Five more minutes.”

Twenty minutes later, Nursey leans far enough out of bed to grab his phone. Dex squints angrily at the glowing screen, like brightness as a concept is a personal offence.

“Check Instagram later, Nurse. I’m trying to pretend I don’t have a bladder.”

“I sympathise,” says Nursey, “but the thing about iPhones, Dex – the really magical thing – is that you can use them to order pizza, to your house, for breakfast, on Christmas eve.”

“Well, in _that_ case...” Dex wriggles closer, kissing a lazy pattern across Nursey’s shoulders.

It’s distracting in the very best way, but not enough to stop Nursey from getting his order in. After all, there are priorities and _priorities_.

“It’ll be here in thirty,” he says, and forces himself to get out of bed, hissing at the cold. With his parents overseas, the central heating is off, and one of the many things Nursey neglected to do on getting in last night was turn it on again. He does so now, huffing to warm his hands, then sets a timer on his phone and cajoles Dex into a shared hot shower.

By the time the pizza arrives, the house is warming nicely, both of them dressed in sleep pants and shirts. Leaving Dex to explore the lounge room, Nursey pays the delivery guy – it’s Christmas eve and his life just changed, so he tips him with everything in his wallet to help pay the good vibes forward, which turns out to be nearly two hundred bucks – and comes away with two large pizzas, steam still rising from the snow-dotted boxes.

“Behold,” he says, returning to find Dex nestled up on the corner lounge with Netflix open. “Sustenance!”

“You’re such a good provider,” Dex says, batting his eyelashes. “Gimme!”

They spend the afternoon watching cartoons, eating pizza and, once Nursey remembers there’s an alcohol cabinet, eggnog. It’s not as smooth as it could be – neither of them wants to try and find a bodega that’s actually open, which means they’re stuck using long-life milk – but Nursey’s parents aren’t known for buying cheap brandy, and the end result is more than drinkable.

It’s just like any post-roadie binge, except that now, they’re allowed to touch; allowed to kiss and look their fill and act like the lovesick idiots they’ve both apparently been for far too long.

They don’t discuss Dex’s family – they barely even acknowledge the fact that it’s Christmas – but as the hours pass and the snow starts falling thickly outside the big bay windows, Nursey decides to take a risk. He knows that Dex is happy here, but that doesn’t mean he’s not lonely in other ways, too.

“Stay here for a minute,” he says, pausing on the credits of the episode they just watched. “I need to get something.”

“Sure,” says Dex, obliging but mystified.

Nursey finds what he’s looking for in the duffle bag he’d packed for the trip to Dex’s place, smoothing over the wrapping as he takes it back downstairs.

At the sight of the present, Dex’s eyes go wide.

Nursey sits down next to him, trying to find the right words. “I know this isn’t the sort of Christmas you’re used to, and I know it can’t ever be the same as what you’re missing, but I thought –” he sucks in air, meets Dex’s gaze, “– it’s still our first Christmas together. As us, like this. And I’ve never really celebrated the usual way, but I’m a big believer in making your own traditions, especially when they’re meaningful. So maybe… maybe this could be ours. To give gifts to each other on Christmas eve. And before you say you didn’t get me anything –” he leans in, kissing Dex softly, “– believe me, you did.”

“I did get you something, though,” Dex says, rising to his feet. “I – I almost put it under the tree at mom and dad’s, but I thought – I figured, just in case we ended up leaving, I ought to keep hold of it instead. So I did. Wait there!”

Dex is back within minutes, clutching his own wrapped parcel. They reposition themselves in their nest of blankets, knee to knee and hip to hip, and shyly exchange gifts. But before Nursey can tug at the wrapping, Dex puts a hand over his and stops him, giving his fingers a squeeze.

“I,” he says, blushing all the way to the tips of his ears. “I just. I don’t know what’ll happen with my family in the future. I don’t know if they’ll ever understand what they did wrong and why we left the way we did, or if I’ll ever stop feeling like it’s somehow all my fault.” He swallows hard at that, but his eyes are soft and his smile is real. “But what I do know – what I think I’ve always known – is that you’re my family, too. So even if this isn’t what I pictured my Christmas being, it’s still the Christmas I wanted. Because it’s at home, with family. With love.”

Nursey kisses him, soft as a promise. “I love you too, you sap,” he says, grinning as Dex headbutts his shoulder. “Now open your damn present.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been in the Check Please fandom for half a year now, but this is my first time writing any fic for it, and I'm honestly blown away by the positive response. Thank you all for reading! This fic was written as a gift for a friend, and it's thanks to him that it exists at all :)


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